


Plate Tectonics

by sirius



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius/pseuds/sirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written in 2008 and includes sexual content.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Plate Tectonics

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2008 and includes sexual content.

When they return to Japan, Yamapi and Shirota go their separate ways. Yamapi says he wants some time on his own. The parting is awkward, mutual “are you sure you're okay?”s, and Yamapi doesn't look back at Shirota's retreating form and wave the way he normally does.

The first thing Shirota does is ring Jin. Jin listens for two or three minutes, and then they hang up.

When Yamapi gets back to his apartment, Jin's car is outside.

He heaves an almighty sigh of relief.

 

Jin is careful not to smother him the moment he walks through the door. It's hard to stay back because Yamapi looks _drained_ , like parts of him have fallen off and been left behind, and in a way Jin supposes they have. There's a bruise emerging on his left cheek.

“Hi,” he says. “Do you want company?”

Yamapi looks at him, drops his bags onto the floor by the door and nods. He doesn't feel like he wants to speak, yet, but Jin gets that. 

They mindlessly play some Dragonball on the Wii for a while. Eventually, Yamapi settles into it: begins to mock Jin's play, begins to wave his controller around even though the console is on manual. He shifts across the floor until Jin is so close, so close that Yamapi can feel Jin's elbows moving. Pressing closer, he can feel Jin breathing. 

“Did Yuu call you?” he asks. 

“Yep,” Jin says. “He asked me to ask you first, but-”

“I'd have said 'no',” Yamapi says. “Yeah. I'm glad you didn't ask.”

“I never ask,” Jin says. “That's why you like me so much.”

 

Yamapi can't be bothered cooking but he doesn't want to go out, either. Jin pulls on a baseball cap and a scarf and heads out for takeout. Yamapi marvels at all the things that seemed so small yesterday: letting Jin go out without anybody with him now feels merciless and cruel. He swallows down feelings on the doorstep until Jin turns back and kisses him, properly kisses him, until he feels better. 

“Don't forget the crackers,” Yamapi says. “Or I'll cut you.”

“Hah,” Jin replies. “I knew it. You just want to watch _prawn_ , don't you?”

“You've been hanging out with Junno too much,” Yamapi says. 

“Probably,” Jin says. “Go back inside, it's cold out here.”

 

When Jin returns, he's laden down with enough shopping to feed them both for a week. Yamapi has a few days off, so he's appreciative. He rummages through the bags as Jin slips his shoes off. 

“Jin,” he says. “Fuck, cigarettes. I should have said-”

“S'alright,” Jin says. “I'll share mine with you. I bought cakes. And buns, look. How good do those buns look, Pi.”

“Too good,” Yamapi says. “I may have to eat them all myself. I am suffering, after all.”

Jin just scoffs. “I don't care about you that much, Pi,” he says. “Not enough to give you all those buns. So sorry. You should have invited Ryo over. He'd have been soppy enough.”

“You don't love me at all,” Yamapi says. 

“Oh, I do,” Jin corrects. “Just not _that_ much.”

 

They sit in front of the television and eat far too much takeout, until they're stuffed and then a bit further. Some game show is on and contestants are having their heads shaved for answering questions incorrectly. 

“Can you imagine us doing that,” Yamapi says. 

“I'd be bald,” Jin muses.

“Do you think they'd move onto your other hair?”

“Fuck,” Jin says. “I wouldn't put it past them. We're not supposed to have body hair, are we, it's too manly.”

“Yeah,” Yamapi leans over and steals one of Jin's prawn crackers. “I don't know. This life. It's crazy. Totally-”

“Crackers,” Jin supplies.

“ _Jin_ ,” Yamapi says.

“Sorry.”

“I just. Did you feel like this when you went to LA? I just feel so...”

“I didn't feel like me,” Jin says. “And I didn't feel like I knew what 'me' was. That's why I went to LA.”

“I don't know,” Yamapi says. “I know who I am. The job isn't who I am. It never has been – but, fuck, I don't know. I used to be so fucking shy, do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Jin says. “I think you still are, a bit. You used to hide behind me at school whenever somebody called your name out. I had to go pay that guy, what was his name, the guy who bullied you for weeks? I had to go pay him off for you to make him stop. Three weeks of lunch money.”

“I remember,” Yamapi says. “I had to share my food with you. What a bastard – I wonder where he is now.”

“I bet he's not doing anything as cool as this,” Jin says. “Takeout on a Monday night, in front of some stupid game show? How much do we rock the world, Pi. How much.”

“To its core,” Yamapi says. “Pass the crackers.”

 

Later, they have beer. They pass a cigarette between them, comfortable and full and quiet. They watch game shows, then the news, then some sort of ranking programme that features girls in swimsuits. 

“Number two,” Yamapi says, decisively. “I like number two.”

“You have bad taste,” Jin says. “Number four is hotter.”

“I'm fucking you,” Yamapi says, taking a drag on the cigarette. “And I have bad taste?”

“Yes,” Jin says. “No. Wait, hang on. Don't do that.” 

He takes the cigarette and blows a perfect ring at the ceiling. Yamapi still hasn't mastered the technique, and he frowns.

“Idiot,” he says. “Dumbfounded by basic logic.”

“At least I can speak English,” Jin says, in English.

“What?” Yamapi asks. “Was that another insult?”

 

They go to bed, much later. It's nearly 3 in the morning. Jin doesn't have work until late the next day, which is lucky. The quiet has rested on Yamapi like snowfall, and he no longer feels that his ears are ringing. Jin brings the buns to bed and they eat them underneath the covers like children. 

“I haven't done this since I was eleven,” Yamapi says. Jin sucks his fingers clean, then Yamapi's.

“Mm,” he says, around Yamapi's knuckle. “We've been missing out.”

“It seems like years ago,” Yamapi says. “Decades and decades. Isn't that weird?”

“A lot's happened,” Jin says, turning onto his side and looking at Yamapi in the dim light. “We've changed. Everything's changed.”

“What do you think you'll do, after this?”

“Move to Hawaii,” Jin says. “Buy a bar. Play the banjo. I don't know. That feels a long time away, I think. What about you?”

“I'll do your taxes,” Yamapi laughs. “God knows you won't do it.”

“See, least your degree will be good for something,” Jin says. “Ganbatte, Pi-chan.”

“Shut up,” Yamapi says, leaning over and nudging his shoulder. “I'll come to Hawaii with you. You can run a bar and I'll do your taxes. And we'll probably be drunk a lot, so I'm sure your taxes will be wrong.”

“That's fine,” Jin says. “I don't need them to be really accurate. What's the point: in Hawaii, you chill out. We could go surfing.”

“You can't surf,” Yamapi says. 

“Golf, then.”

“I can't play golf.”

“Stop ruining it,” Jin says. “You can teach me to surf. Or I'll teach you golf. We'll be drunk a lot, so it'll be easy.”

“Okay,” Yamapi says. “Will you teach me English?”

“Sure,” Jin says. “I'll teach you some right now.”

“Okay,” Yamapi says. 

“'Jin, won't you please suck my cock?'”

Yamapi hits him. 

 

It gets to 6, and they're still up. Lying down on the bed on their stomachs, duvet wrapped over and around them like a roll. They play monopoly. The dice keep rolling off the end of the bed and Jin has to keep throwing himself over to catch them.

Yamapi's winning with his keen sense of economics. Jin spends all his money buying houses, whereas Yamapi saves up, buys houses on the expensive properties and leeches Jin's money away. Jin doesn't think it's fair. 

“You never land on my houses,” he says, miserably. “And I keep getting taxed.”

“I'm sorry,” Yamapi says, but he isn't. 

“Can't you give me one of yours?” Jin says. “I'll give you one of my buns.”

Yamapi screws up his eyes, thinks about it. “Two buns and you have a deal.”

“Done,” Jin says. “But I want Mayfair.”

“You can't have Mayfair,” Yamapi says. “It has a hotel on it.”

“I want Mayfair,” Jin insists. “It's the best one.”

“Oh, fine,” Yamapi says, handing him the card.

Jin throws an eight, lands on a community card. He has to pay maintenance on his hotels. He goes bankrupt as Yamapi refuses to bail him out. 

“What kind of friend are you?” he says. 

“A sane one,” Yamapi says. “Fuck, it's nearly seven, Jin.”

“Mmm,” Jin says, stretching. “You're a morning friend.”

“The sun's rising,” Yamapi says. “I can't remember when I last slept.”

“I'll sing you a lullaby,” Jin says. 

“Don't,” Yamapi says. He puts the game onto the floor and draws the duvet around himself, sitting up. Leaning against the headboard, he doesn't feel in the slightest bit tired. Drained, but not tired. 

“Is that blowjob still on offer,” he says. 

 

Jin gives the most indescribably good blowjobs. It's not a matter of technique, of flawlessness – it's that Jin pays a lot of attention. He notices it when Yamapi likes something and he moves on when something isn't working. He doesn't ever take offense if it takes a while, and that's often because they're frequently tense and stressed what with work. Jin makes you feel comfortable. Nobody else does that in quite the same way. 

It also helps that he has a happy, wet mouth, but that's a digression of thought.

“Oh, fuck,” Yamapi says, under his breath. He has Jin's head clamped between his palms and he's not about to let go, possibly ever. “Just, right, Jin, _there_.”

Jin nods, once, and the bobbing is so good that Yamapi pushes up into it, strokes the back of Jin's head in apology even though it's Jin fault for being so fucking good at giving head. Jin draws his mouth up and down in an undulation, teasing his tongue into the right spots – until Yamapi wants to pull him down by the chin and not let him go. 

“Jin,” he hisses. “Fucking let me-”

“No,” Jin says, happily, running the side of his tongue around the head. “Not right now.”

“I-” Yamapi begins, opening and shutting his mouth. “I said blow _job_. Not blowslackingoff. Why are you-”

“I just don't want to rush you,” Jin says. “You've had a stressful day.”

“And this would make it better,” Yamapi says, indignant. “If you'd get on with it.”

“You have no patience,” Jin says. “Patience is important in life. That's what you always used to say to me. Patience is a virtue. So, you know, be patient. I'm getting to it.”

“I seriously hate you,” Yamapi says. “Just so you know.”

“That's fine,” Jin says. “I love me enough to make up for it.”

He swallows the head down and Yamapi groans, falling back against the pillow with frustration. Jin goes forward and pulls back, drawing Yamapi out each time longer than the last, until Yamapi is prepared to beg or plead or do whatever it is that Jin wants.

“ _Jin_ ,” he says. “For fuck's sake, just-”

“Stop talking,” Jin says. “I have to talk back. I can't suck you off and talk at the same time. Which would you rather I do?”

“Obviously-”

“Then stop talking. I'm getting to it.”

He moves back down, and Yamapi grabs a handful of his hair. When he tries to move, he can't, too much, and his eyes flick upwards to Yamapi's face. Yamapi has that particularly stubborn expression, and Jin smirks around him. He smirks and smirks and smirks until Yamapi pushes his hips forward, pulls back, fucking his face until Jin realises that he's no longer going to dictate the pace. 

“Fuck, yes,” Yamapi says. “Just like that, fuck, Jin-”

Jin wants to say, 'I am not a sex toy'. He wants to yank his mouth away and teach Yamapi a lesson. But he doesn't, because the sight of Yamapi using his mouth to get off is so ridiculously hot that he can't move. He just absorbs it, tingles with it, presses his own hips against the mattress and moans around Yamapi as it gets to be too much to bear. Yamapi's fingers are tightening in his hair and his muscles are weak, and when Jin moans it's too much for him, and the sound he makes crawls up the walls so fast that the wallpaper seems to move. 

And when Yamapi's mouth twists in that certain way, Jin comes without warning, without anything other than the hardness of the mattress against him. Exhausted, he rests his head on Yamapi's thigh. It doesn't take long before he's asleep. 

 

They wake up at noon. Yamapi makes breakfast before Jin gets up and they eat it together in bed, watching the morning news. Yamapi's 'phone keeps going off as people he knows see the pictures and the video footage. Kame sends him a concerned e-mail and tells him to tell Jin that if he skips rehearsal to look after Yamapi it's okay. 

“Are things better with you?” Yamapi asks, as Jin scrolls through the channels.

Jin looks at Yamapi and thinks about it. “Better,” he says. “Better than they were. But not there yet.”

“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “I get that.”

“Are you alright?” Jin says. “Really? I never asked.”

“I was better the moment I saw your car,” Yamapi says. “I just leave it behind, you know. Leave it behind. It doesn't do any good to keep it. It's like wearing a coat that's wet, it just makes you miserable. Take it off and leave it to dry.”

“Letting it go is hard,” Jin says. “How the hell do you do it? How did you get over all the...problems with Kame? How did you get over what happened with Uchi, Kusano? And the hiatus? I just feel...you do that so much better than me.”

“I don't know,” Yamapi says. “You just have to treat each day as a new day. Fresh slate. Let yourself feel positive and good things happen. Appreciate the good stuff, forget the bad. Fuck, I could write greeting cards. I don't have the answers, Jin. I just think you have it in you to forget all of the shit and get on with doing what you like doing.”

“Okay,” Jin says. “That makes sense. Now, tell me how to beat your ass at monopoly.”

“Nope,” Yamapi says. “I need to have some secrets.”

 

Jin turns up to rehearsal, after all. There's something different about his step as he walks through the door. Kame is surprised to see him and Jin smiles, the first genuine smile in far too long. After a moment's pause, Kame reciprocates.

“Is he alright?” he says, quiet and understated and perfectly appropriate.

“Yeah,” Jin says. “He's alright. Taking it like a man, you know, just being Yamapi.”

“Well,” Kame says. “Have you seen the title they've given your solo song? That might cheer you both up.”

“No,” Jin says. “Maru, Maru, give me the sheet, stop hogging-- holy crap, your song is called _Smack_?!”

“Yeah,” Maru says. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Jin grins. “Nothing. What's mine c-- oh. Oh. Fuck. Er-”

“Yes,” Kame says. “I thought you'd be pleased.”

 

Text sent to [Pi] from [Jin], 6.35pm:

_My solo song is called LOVE JUICE._

_LOVE JUICE, Pi._

_What would be your strategy for getting over this? Counting to 10? Meditation? Being appreciative of management's perception of my English skills?_

 

Text sent to [Jin] from [Pi], 6.42pm:

_Alcohol, game shows and sticky buns. And a blowjob from a good friend. It works every time._


End file.
